


Then It Is Done

by compo67



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alpha/Omega, Alternate Universe - Ancient Greece, Ancient History, Arranged Marriage, Cultural Differences, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Older Jensen, One Shot, Pederasty, Traditions, Unresolved Emotional Tension, no rape between the J's, younger Jared
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-30
Updated: 2018-07-30
Packaged: 2019-06-18 16:09:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15489639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/compo67/pseuds/compo67
Summary: An Ancient Greek AU loosely based on a tradition in Crete where young men were pursued by suitors in the woods and carried off. Different sources still debate whether or not this was consensual.Jensen returns from war as the new head of his household and owner of property. He prefers to be different.





	Then It Is Done

Jensen walks through every room in the villa. He checks in with the laundry maid and every household staff he runs into.

No one knows where his new omega mate has gone, but Pelas assures Jensen he must be on the property. Pelas and the rest of the guards protect the borders and gates of the estate with the utmost care and attention.

However, as much as Jensen tried to assign a guard to the omega, the idea was swiftly vetoed.

Jared comes from a village in the woods of Ximonethes. His people pride themselves on self reliance and independence. Offering a guard or even an attendant to his side was an offense Jensen still hasn’t quite understood. Pelas and his guards dedicate themselves to the safety of the entire household. Still. It is best to be cautious.

This is not the woods.

Jensen stops by the main kitchen and waits until Formina notices him. He tried putting together his own plate once, and unforgettably met the power of her flare. For four generations, her family has served Jensen’s. If he thinks so little of her as to go and grab something to eat for himself, then she should just give her body and soul up to the gods.

So, Jensen waits.

Formina wraps up a warm disc of light bread, a handful of salty olives, two apples, and a slab of honey cake. She fills up a skein with cool water Jensen brought in this morning, then adds in slices of a sweet red fruit.

Before he leaves the villa, he checks in with Darmin. They’ll go hunting later, seems like a good day for it. He needs his gear attended to, Darmin shoos him away with mumbling that he’s on it, he’s on it. One of the stable boys runs up to Jensen two steps from the villa. A letter arrived not more than five minutes ago. It’s messenger did not ask for the head of the household, so the stable master took it and sent the boy. Jensen thanks him, takes the letter, and continues walking towards the far end of his property where the trees cluster close together.

He breaks the seal of the letter and reads as he walks. A late letter expressing blessings and joy on his marriage, Harmiene’s block script fills two pages with congratulations and updates from the coast. Peacetime letters. Jensen indulges in the lighter content of his old friend’s words. In the thick of the forest, Jensen tucks the letter into his chiton.

Some time has passed since he walked out this far, despite being the owner of this property. Perhaps it would be easier to do so if there were a neater pathway.  Or if he had not spent so many years away at war.

The scar over his right forearm stings, as it does whenever his mind wanders close to the memories of its origin.

A battlefield. Weapons and the like. Fire. Chaos. Men calling out for their gods and their lovers.

It was Jensen’s duty and honor to fight for his people.

He fulfilled the responsibilities laid out before him since his birth as the eldest and only son. Being qualified to rest among the dead when he passes into the shadows remains more worthy than any property or gold.

Lost in thought, he arrives at a clearing. No more than three seconds pass when the cold bite of a blade presses against his throat. The one who wields it happens to be the one who also shares his bed.

“You would be dead,” Jared murmurs, as if reciting a recipe for bread. “You ought to be more careful.”

They have been married for two weeks. Known each other for three. In his father’s day, that might as well have been years. It was written in one of the oldest texts belonging to the very first of their family to settle here that all good mates could be found in Ximonethes.

There, a man could find an omega willing to work the land and produce healthy children. So it was, that when he returned from the coast and made necessary repairs and preparations to the villa, Jensen made the trip.

Presently, he cannot help the smile that tugs at the corners of his mouth, even with a knife held to his throat.

“You do well with your blade,” Jensen offers, keeping his voice light. “And your footsteps. I did not hear you.”

Hazel eyes burn without severing their stare. “I won’t give it up. My blade nor my footsteps.”

“I would not have it so, Jared.”

The blade drops from Jensen’s throat. Jared could make use of it. He could have done so a hundred times by now, with easy access to Jensen while he slept. And knowing Jared’s excellent aim and form, he could have done it with more skill than a mercenary would have done so on the battlefield.

With a grunt, Jared turns away from Jensen. He storms over to a tree, and with little effort, pulls himself up so that he comfortably sits on a gnarled branch. The gold earrings his people give to omegas of marrying age glitter dangerously in the sunlight  

“You’re odd,” Jared declares, his tone gruff.

“But not weak,” Jensen counters. He remains in the middle of the clearing, hands at his sides, visible at all times.

“By your standards,” Jared huffs.

“This is true. However, my standards are the only ones I know. I brought you lunch, should you want it.”

“No.”

“Then do you mind if I eat?”

“Do as you like.”

With care, Jensen unwraps a piece of bread. He savors the first bite and sends a silent prayer of thanks to the gods for it. Good bread should never be taken for granted.

After two bites, Jensen looks around. “I was thinking of expanding the gardens. Maybe making a pathway. Our horses did well this year. There’s some coin leftover for those projects. What do you think?”

Jared wears the same ragged chiton he arrived in. He has forbidden any member of the household to wash or mend it. His words rumble like the thunderstorm that woke Jensen up last night.

“What does it matter. This is no proper place.”

What the texts did not say was that every omega from Ximonethes had been captured and held against their will. Jensen’s father held fast to his belief that the omegas and their families should be grateful for such advantageous marriages. They would be guaranteed a comfortable home. Solid work with the assistance of servants. Clean accommodations and elegant trappings. They would be lifted from their lives in the woods into a life of civilized nobility.

The capture, he insisted, was almost as good as the wedding night.

Bribed with gold and horses, a family would sacrifice an omega of age and strength. They would tie a blindfold over the omega’s eyes and release them into the woods, where they would be chased and hunted. Pursued and subdued. Hauled off.

That is not how Jensen spent his time in Ximonethes.

“Not yet,” Jensen replies. He takes out a carving knife and slices an apple. “But it could be. We could be the start.”

Jared doesn’t move from his spot. “I don’t know what to think of you,” he says, looking away from Jensen. “I’m not sure whether you are more foolish or dense.”

“Possibly both," Jensen concedes.

“Your reactions frustrate me!” Jared snaps. His eyes narrow. “Shouldn’t you strike me? Beat me? Confine me to a room so that I could be out of sight and out of mind? Force yourself on me as you please? You delay the inevitable.”

In angry, fluid motions, Jared descends from the tree to the ground. He stares hard at Jensen.

“Better to cut the niceties and stop this. Unless you truly think you are better than the rest of them.”

Peace does not arrive in neat packages or tidy parcels. It must be fought for. Day in and day out. Jensen tosses an apple to Jared, who catches it purely out of reflex.

“Not better,” Jensen answers. He turns towards the villa, ready to head back and tend to the long list of chores that await his return. “Just different.”

He doesn’t force Jared to go back with him. Or to eat. Or to change into a different chiton during the day. He doesn’t force peace. It can be achieved without bloodshed. He can put in the work, fight as he needs to, and defend himself without wringing blood from another. Of all things learned from war, he learned to hate it.

Who, but the gods, knows what may happen to the land and cities they fought for. They may all one day be spectacular ruins.

Harmienes invited him out to the coast once the weather clears.

That might be a pleasant trip, though he hesitates to leave the household for too long.

The apple knocks against the back of Jensen's head.

"Don't turn your back on me," Jared shouts and runs ahead. "How long until you take what you want? I am not fooled by you, husband."

Although that last word carries with it no affection or love, Jensen reigns in his instinctive response. Instead of shouting back, he continues walking. He speaks more to the trees than he does to Jared. "I will admit this is a peculiar situation for the both of us. But it is what it is. I require a husband and you require a partner. Perhaps in time, we can both fulfill the other's need."

With a scoff, Jared rolls his eyes. "I'd rather you beat me."

Gentle clouds of smoke rise from the villa. Supper must be on. 

Jensen stops walking and takes a moment to look at the youth in front of him. What more can be offered? What more can be done? Will it always be like this between them? Suppose it will--what then? 

Before he can verbalize these thoughts, Jared cuts in, his tone much like brittle bark used for tea to calm the worst of ailments. "I begged them not to sell me to you. Told them they were wrong to do it. Do you know what that's like?" 

"No," Jensen plainly answers. "I do not." 

"I want my own bed."

"That, I cannot do."

"Why? Why allow me all these other, insufferable freedoms but not this? Are you afraid I would escape? I could have, ten times by now." 

"And what has stopped you?" 

"..." Jared bites his bottom lip. "I..."

At this, Jensen resumes walking, though he slows his pace. "Should intruders ever arrive to this property, they would most likely start their slaughter at the stables, then work their way towards the main house. Your chances of survival drop significantly if you sleep in another room." Jensen offers a slight smile. "Not because you cannot protect yourself. But because you would be caught off guard."

Jared stands straight, with all the solid, unwavering posture of a soldier. 

"I don't mean to speak only of threats outside this household," Jensen continues. "But inside as well. The soul that brings you a late-night drink of water could also be your guide to the afterlife. What way would I have of knowing this? At night, we stay together."

Jensen arrives at the villa, with Jared only ten or so steps behind him. 

For quite some time, neither of them speak to each other, and eventually they go their separate ways. 

Not another word passes between them until it comes time to extinguish the last set of candles in their bedroom. Jensen goes about his nightly routine, undisturbed and unchanged since he was a boy. He undresses, hangs his chiton on the wall opposite the foot of the bed, and takes a long drink of water from the clay pitcher on the dresser. Work will need to be done early in the morning. He should reply to Harmienes and get the letter sent by no later than the next day. He should also go into town and call on some of his father's friends. 

His mind occupied, he settles into bed for the night. 

"Do you need me," Jared asks, resignation thick in his voice. He stands near the dresser, already having changed into a clean chiton for the night.

"Only to take care of the candles, if you could." Jensen takes care to leave a wide berth of room for Jared in the bed. "I'll be going into town sometime in the late morning. If there's something you'd like, let me know." 

The villa remains quiet and calm at this hour. Still, Jensen sleeps with his favored dagger underneath his pillow and his sharpest, lightest broad sword underneath the platform. He finds their company soothing. One practical lesson from his father put to good use. 

As Jared tentatively climbs into bed, Jensen murmurs, "My mother suffered a great deal with my father. Bore it all with strength neither he nor I will ever have. And maybe it is misguided. Or futile. Or even stupid, really. But I thought this was a way to make things right. I have no idea what I'm doing, I only know that it is different. You are not her and I am not him." 

Tomorrow lies in wait. There are things Jensen would like to do that he has planned and things that will happen without his planning. 

Jared lets out a breath he had been holding. He lies closer to Jensen than he did the previous night. 

"You should plant fig trees," Jared quietly suggests. "Those would do well." 

"Would they please you?" 

"Yes."

Jensen nods. He closes his eyes and makes a note to visit a friend of Pelas' in the market and inquire about the cost of fig trees. 

Before falling asleep, he issues his decision to Jared. "Then it is done, husband." 

 

**Author's Note:**

> i've been working on this little by little for a while now. finally tonight i finished it and decided, well, here goes nothing. i always feel like i should put in a sex scene? but it didn't work for this fic? so??? 
> 
> i tagged this as underage, but that's by our 21st century standards. youth/young men were all "of age" when they entered any kind of pederastic relationships. this is also not really a "true" pederastic relationship, since those relationships wouldn't have resulted in marriage. 
> 
> can you tell i wrote my thesis in undergrad about this? XD
> 
> idk, i just wanted some ancient greek AU with a little less "hey, everything's super violent and terrible, we're married now."


End file.
